This whole WSJ article about the differences between men's and women's travel habits is super interesting—and you ought to read it—but I just want to talk about this one passage right now because I just completely rage-hulked out of my pajama jeans:

Women who travel a lot say one of the biggest frustrations is that men often assume women don't have the top-tier elite status or first-class seat for early boarding. Several women interviewed, who were part of a recent super-frequent-flier road trip organized by MilePoint.com, said men would cut in front of them or even shove them in the stampede of boarding, as a result.

"I get pushed out of the way. People just don't believe I belong there,'' said Christy Lipschultz, a Chicago project manager for a financial-services company. Ms. Lipschultz has tallied about 200,000 miles this year on United Airlines and American Airlines.

First of all, the part when everyone gets in that awkward no-eye-contact scrum waiting for their boarding group to be called is worse than mop duty at the Diarrhea Festival. As though it's a good thing to get smushed inside the flying fart-powered Pringles can as soon as possible! People! CHILL. Your seat isn't going anywhere. Stop slow-motion shoulder-checking me with the silent fury of 1000 Romneys.

Second of all, line-cutting is the most entitled and ugh-fucky of all the types of cuttings! (Lawn cuttings, we're cool.) Privilege! Privilege! Privileeeeeege!!! Clearly, you think you just get to go before everyone else because you are you, so you deserve it! Treat yourself, for once! Look at these patient dicks, just standing there waiting their turn! Reach out and seize your birthright, dragon-rider! (Your birthright is being one person ahead in this line.)

News flash: YOU ARE NOTHING. I RENOUNCE YOU.

And then thirdly, to bring sexism into it, and to assume that ladies in the First Class line couldn't possibly be Very Important Lady-Businessmen (maybe they have to get to an important vibrator meeting!!!!!!), just chaps my hide so far that now I am an invisible skeleton.

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(And DON'T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON LEGROOM-HOGGING AND ARMREST-ANNEXATION. Dudes, must you air out your dong for the entire duration of the trans-Atlantic flight? Couldn't you chill out on the wide-stancin' for just a couple of minutes so I can stop inverting myself like a human Popple?)